Death on an Autumn River (22 page)

They had been gambling again.  Dice lay on the scuffed floor, and a large man with a tattoo of a writhing dragon on his bare thigh had a smaller, older man by the neck and was shaking him like a rat.  The smaller man did the squealing, while the big brute shouted.  Coins dropped from the smaller man’s clothes.  Three other men, also middle-aged, cowered in a corner.

The shouting involved words like “thieving bastards” and “I’ll make you eat your dice.”  Tora grinned.  No doubt, fleecing customers was a regular pastime here, but this time the customer had caught on.

The customer with the dragon tattoo was a brute, easily twice the bulk of the little fellow he was throttling.  Tora decided to take the side of the underdog, regardless of the underdog’s offense.  He waded into the fray with a roar, seized the brute’s topknot and jerked him back sharply.

The man howled, let go of his victim, and swung around.  What followed was one of the uglier battles Tora had engaged in.

Dragon Tattoo twisted out of Tora’s grasp, leaving a handful of hair behind, and rammed a fist into Tora’s stomach with such force that Tora flew back and hit a pillar, doubling up. The pillar saved him from falling flat on his back.  He pushed away and butted his head into the other man’s middle as he came again with fists flying.  There was a grunt, and then the brute vomited up an evil-smelling flood.  Tora waited for the vomiting to stop, and when the other man’s head came up, he smashed his fist into his face.  Blood spurted, and suddenly a knife appeared in the man’s hand.

Tora stepped back and drew his sword.

For a moment, the action froze.  Then the brute cursed long and volubly.  He snarled, “This isn’t over, you bastards!  I’ll be back and get you both.”  Raising the knife, he made a slashing motion across his throat.  Then he turned and lumbered from the room.

Tora put away his sword.  His stomach was on fire, and he felt a sudden nausea rising.  Moving away from the stench of the vomit, he asked, “Who was that?”

His audience exchanged glances and then stared at him.  The huddle in the corner dissolved as the three men crept forward.  The
one
who had been throttled, coughed and bent to pick up the coins and dice.  “One of the sailors,” he rasped.

“He’s a pirate,” offered one of the others. 
“Said he’s coming back.
  What will you do, Kunimitsu?”

So the man he had saved was the manager of the hostel.  Tora considered briefly that it might have been wiser to befriend the pirate than him.  “You run this place?” he asked.

Kunimitsu massaged his throat.  “What do you want?” he asked sourly.

“What?  Not a word of thanks?”  Tora raised his brows in mock horror.  “Shall I run after the guy and tell him to go ahead with what he’d planned for you and offer to help him?  I take
it,
you’ve been cheating him at dice?”

“That’s a lie,”
blustered
Kunimitsu.  “And you made things worse.”

The others burst into assorted dire predictions.

Tora sighed and sat down.  “I have a few coppers,” he said,
  “
but I’m out of work and need a place to stay.  I’ll play you for it.”  He tried not to think of the promise he had made his wife, Hanae.  But this was not for pleasure.  This was part of the job. 

Kunimitsu looked him over. “How many coppers do you have?”

Tora fished ten from his jacket and laid them down tenderly in two rows of five.

Kunimitsu snorted.  “That’s all?  What about your sword?”

“No.  I might need it when that bastard comes to slit your throat.”

Silence.

The one who had spoken earlier said, “You’re a greedy cunt, Kunimitsu.  He tried to help you.”

Kunimitsu frowned.  “Shut up, Yoshi.  You talk too much.”  But he leaned forward and pushed the coppers toward Tora.  “You can stay.”

Tora grinned and scooped up the coins. 
“For free?”

“For free.”

The chatty fellow clapped his hands.  “Let’s drink on it.”

Kunimitsu got up and shuffled to an old barrel.  He fumbled around in its depths and brought out an earthenware bottle.  Sitting down again, he removed a rag that served as stopper, drank deeply and then passed the bottle to Tora.  Tora drank, smacked his lips, and passed the wine on.  The pain in his stomach subsided, replaced by a pleasant burn.

“So, who was he?” Tora asked.

Kunimitsu looked glum. 
“Gave the name Tojo.
  I wouldn’t take his word for it.”

“And he’s a pirate?”

Kunimitsu snorted.  
“Of course not.
  Yoshi likes to make up stories.  He’s just a sailor.”

“He’s got the tattoo,” offered Yoshi.

Kunimitsu glared at him. 
“So what?
  Anybody can have a tattoo.  You’re gonna give my place a bad name, Yoshi.”

Yoshi muttered, “Sorry.”

Tora said, “So he’s a sailor.  I don’t get it.”

“It’s not important.  I don’t think he’ll be back.”  Kunimitsu took another gulp of wine. “What’s your name and where are you from?”

“I’m Tora.”  No point in confusing himself with too many aliases.

“So you’re a tiger?”  They grinned at that.  Kunimitsu sneered, “If you’re so good, how come you’re looking for work?”

“Got into a fight with my overseer in the capital.
  He messed with my woman.  Had to leave kinda
quick
.”

They stared at him.  “You killed him?” asked Yoshi, his eyes large.

Tora did not answer. 
“How about that game?”

Kunimitsu fished out the dice and some of his money.  The others brought out their coppers.  Tora picked up the dice and inspected them.  They seemed all right.  They played fast and with total concentration.  Though Tora watched carefully, he did not see anyone cheating.  He won a little and lost a little, and after some time had passed with grunts and moans from the others, he asked, “Who owns the ships here?”

Kunimitsu counted his money.  “Watamaro owns most of them in Kawajiri and Kanzaki, and on some of the islands in the Inland Sea.  Why?”

“I need a job.  I hear the pay is very good on
some
ships.” 

Silence fell.  Then Yoshi said, “You’re not a sailor.  It’s dangerous work. People get killed on
some
ships.”

Tora grinned.  “Maybe, but if the reward is big enough, I’ll risk it.”

They stared at him.  Then Kunimitsu sighed and put the dice away.  “It’s getting late.” he said.  “You can stay the night because I promised, but if you want to stay
alive,
don’t meddle in other people’s business.”

The party broke up quickly after that.  When the others had left, Kunimitsu looked at Tora.  “Who told you about pirates?”

“Oh, come on.  All a man has to do is to watch and listen.  Someone said this was the place to get in touch with them.”

Kunimitsu shook his head.  “You must be mad.  Let me show you where you can sleep.” 

Carrying an oil lamp, he led the way to a room on the ground level.  Unlike the open areas of the hostel, this had wooden walls and a wooden door out to the back of the building.  Tora was flattered.  “Thanks, Kunimitsu.  This is nice.”

Kunimitsu dragged in a roll of bedding.  “Well, get some rest.  If you haven’t changed your mind in the morning, I’ll ask around.”

Tora slapped his shoulder.  “Thanks, brother.”

*

It had been a long day, and Tora was tired.  He checked the two doors and found that he could bar them.  Then he unrolled the bedding, kicked off his shoes and lay down. He kept his clothes on and his hand around the grip of his sword was asleep in an instant.

Sometime in the night, he became aware of a scratching noise.  Rats, he thought, but there was something too persistent about it.  He stayed very still and listened.  The scratching was accompanied by hissing and seemed to come from the door to the outside.  Getting up silently, Tora tip-toed to the door and put his ear against it.  Yes, someone was outside, scratching and whispering.  He considered, gripping his sword.  Then he eased the bar back slowly.  The scratching continued, and Tora opened the door a crack.

It was dark, but there was a full moon.  Outside his door
crouched
a creature.  Pushing the sword through the opening, Tora asked, “What do you want?”

The creature popped up, and in the moonlight, Tora saw the horrible head of a demon.  He slammed the door shut, rammed the bar across, and recited the spell against evil spirits.

After a while, he heard steps receding and crept back to his bedding.  It was a long time before he dozed off again, and then he dreamed.  He was a pirate and they were attacking a ship.  On the ship was a beautiful lady.  She screamed when she saw him, but he did not care.  He was about to kill her, when he saw that she was Hanae and lowered his sword.

Akitada’s worries increased during the day.  There had been no progress.  Tora was in Kawajiri looking for pirates.  Neither of them had a full understanding how these men operated.  They were the highway robbers of the sea and said to be far more cruel and murderous.  And he had already lost Sadenari.  He reminded himself that Tora was not Sadenari.  Tora knew how to fight and he was shrewd about the underworld.

In the afternoon, he returned to the prefecture.  Munata was there, but the governor was still absent.

Munata still looked very distraught and nervous.  “I’ve done everything I could,” he assured Akitada, “but His Excellency is a proud man.  Besides, I had to inform him of his son’s departure.  I don’t think he will come to Naniwa until Yoshiyo is found.  Surely you can understand a father’s feelings?”

“No.  Enlighten me,” snapped Akitada.  “I would have thought that an imperial order takes precedence over the vagaries of adult sons.”

Munata twisted his hands. 
“An only son.
  Allow me to explain, sir.  His Excellency has had many tragedies in his life.  He lost four sons in their childhood.  Only Yoshiyo, his heir, survived.  If I may explain: the boy was always a dreamer, but he did well at the university, and his father had high hopes for him in government service.  Alas, Yoshiyo wished to become a monk. His Excellency was aghast, as you may imagine, and called him home.  Since then, they’ve had a great quarrel.  Yoshiyo made some wild threats.  His Excellency was afraid of pushing his son too far and let him come to stay with me.  Now Yoshiyo has run away, and we don’t know where he is.  You can see how worried we all are.”

Akitada frowned.  It seemed that every time he tried to force compliance from the men involved in the piracy matter, they came up with some convincing excuse why they could not obey.  He said, “I am required to report to the Minister of the Right, and I suggest you remind the governor of this.  He must learn to handle his family problems without ignoring his duty.”

“I regret,
sir, that
the governor has departed to look for his son.  I have no way of contacting him.”

Akitada just looked at the prefect.

Munata swallowed and added, “My clerks are gathering information about pirate activity and possible local connections, and I have informed the local police to give you
every assistance
.  Besides, I can offer you my own men, in case you should meet with armed resistance.  The prefectural guard numbers twenty-five trained
men,
and I have personal retainers who can raise another two-hundred soldiers.  They are at your command.”

The offer was unexpected and extremely generous. Akitada was mollified.  Two-hundred armed men was a small army.  “Thank you.  I shall avail myself of your offer if the need arises, but on the whole I’d like to avoid bloodshed.  It always falls heaviest on the innocent.”

The prefect bowed.

“Send a clerk with the paperwork to the government hostel.  I’m staying there.”

Munata bowed again.

Akitada had to be satisfied with partial success and decided to speak to the professor again.  He was still puzzled by the man’s interest in the dead courtesan. 

The professor’s wife, looking pale and worn and dispensing with any effort to hide behind a fan, told him that her husband was down by the river.

A breeze had sprung up, and as Akitada strode down toward the little inlet of the ducks, it seized a crimson maple and scattered its leaves before him like a shower of blood.  He shuddered, and an irrational fear gripped him.  Surely, his strange moods were due to his recent loss.  Seimei gone, leaving a great void, and before him his small son Yori.  And Tora was even now walking into the same danger that had swallowed the unfortunate youth Sadenari.  Some days he felt that they were all being tossed about
as  helplessly
as the leaves.

He found Otomo in an odd posture of despair.  He sat on the ground, hunched over, his elbows propped on his knees and his face in his hands.  When Akitada cleared his throat, he came upright and then rose awkwardly to his feet.  “Your Excellency,” he
said,
his voice thick.  “I didn’t know you had returned.”

There were tears on the old man’s face.  Embarrassed, Akitada said, “I didn’t mean to intrude.  We can talk later.”